Page 37
It was a clever ploy, but Gray had received correspondence from several members, and he knew the true state of affairs. No doubt Barry had heard the peers’ complaints over the Painted Chamber to which they had been assigned after the fire destroyed their original meeting place, but grumble as they might, they would meet there. Gray tucked the paper away, evidence of Viola Staveley’s scheme. He had business to conduct with Cordelia Staveley.
Between him and his path to Cordelia, Finch and the girl stood staring at one another. Finch made a cool, wordless appraisal of her as if she were one of Faraday’s new machines, whose use he did not quite comprehend. The girl flushed angrily, her chin thrust out, her eyes flashing defiance.
“You got the post-boy uniform wrong,” Finch said. “You neglected the blue cuffs.”
She glanced at the cuffs of the red coat and back at Finch. “Think what you like of me, Mr. Finch. I won’t let you gentlemen tear down our home.”
“Miss Staveley.” Gray interrupted the staring contest. She tore her gaze from Finch. “If you would be so good as to look at the tower, you will see a place where water damage has weakened it. If you don’t want it to fall on anyone’s head, it must be repaired.”
Her face wore a mulish, mistrustful expression, but she lifted her gaze to the tower. Gray pointed out a discolored band of stones that protruded slightly from the side of the tower.
“Can it be repaired?” she asked.
“If anyone can do it, Higson can.”
“In time for our ball? We can hardly dance around these piles of stone.” She waved at the pallets.
At that moment Winter came running into the courtyard. Gray directed him to Higson, whose men began to shift the fallen poles and planks into piles. Higson questioned the rescued man. Another fellow swept up shards of stone. Gray turned back to Miss Staveley.
“Ah,” he said. “I must tell you the ball is canceled.”
Instant outrage flared in the girl’s eyes. “It can’t be canceled. Everything is planned. Mir has made beautiful dresses for us. Roz has written the invitations. You can’t simply change your mind. It’s grossly unfair. Cordelia said you agreed to let us hold the ball here. She said we had only to be patient …”
He held up a hand to stop the flow of words. He could imagine what Cordelia Staveley had said. “So you took matters into your own hands?”
“Are you blaming me for you breaking your word?”
“What business would a chit like you have at a ball?” Finch asked. “You are what—fifteen? And far from ladylike.”
The girl straightened. “I am a lady by birth.”
“And a hoyden by behavior,” Finch snapped. “This stunt of yours, Miss Staveley, masquerading as a messenger, inserting yourself into men’s business, putting yourself in harm’s way, is hardly the mark of a lady.”
“What do gentlemen know about being a lady? You have it all wrong. Lady Hester Britt herself says that a lady does what she must. She sticks to her principles. I am sticking to mine. Lady Mary Bankes defended Corfe, and I will defend Delamere.”
“Admirable, Miss Staveley,” said Gray, entering the dispute. “But alas, your strategy violates the conditions of the agreement I made with your sister.”
She swung her glare from Finch to Gray. “What conditions?”
“That is between your sister and me.”
“You and Cordelia made a secret bargain?”
“A private agreement.” Gray was getting deeper in trouble by the minute. “And now I must speak with her about it. Walk to the lodge with me.”
“Sir!” Winter called. “Higson wants a word.”
“Wait for me,” Gray told the girl. “Finch, keep her out of harm’s way.”
“I will,” Finch said. “Come, Miss Staveley, let’s you and I let the men get on with their work.”
*
Gray crossed the courtyard to Winter and Higson, who huddled in quiet conversation while Higson’s men engaged in cleaning up the debris. “What is it?” he asked.
Winter and Higson exchanged a glance. “Sir, Higson thinks …”
“There’s been mischief done here, your lordship, no mistake. We need to get to the bottom of it before we go on. Scaffolding like this doesn’t come down on its own.”
